A World Gone Mad
by pupeez4eva
Summary: Arthur wakes up one day to learn that he's been dead for the past six years. AU!Fic, FrUK, RusAme, Brotherly!USUK
1. Waking Up In A World Gone Mad

"So, I'd like to congratulate you Frog." Arthur shot his companion a brief smile; Francis raised one eyebrow in question as he hurried to keep up with him.

"For what?" he asked. "And slow down," he added.

Arthur rolled his eyes but lowered his pace. "For not making me want to rip your intestines out and feed them to you - for once in your life."

A large smile spread across Francis' face. "Does this make us an official couple then?"

"Frog, we've been dating for over a month now," Arthur snorted. "What did you think we were?"

"Well..." Francis scowled slightly. "Every time we had a date you always told me that I could have 'done a better job' at the end."

"Well you could have," Arthur responded, shrugging his shoulders. "And now you finally have."

Francis raised one eyebrow, expectantly.

"Yes," Arthur sighed. "I'm probably going to regret this later but - yes. We're an official couple...or whatever."

With a delighted laugh, Francis swooped down and pulled the shorter male into a kiss. Arthur let out a yelp of protest but didn't struggle and immediately responded.

"Maybe if you were less impulsive..." he murmured, once the kiss had ended. Francis snorted and rolled his eyes.

"Oh stop complaining," he grumbled. "You know you love me."

It was an light-hearted comment but even so, Arthur was glad that Francis had turned away before he could see his cheeks burn bright red.

When Arthur once again met Francis' gaze, he saw that the other male was frowning.

"What's wrong?" he asked, following Francis' gaze to the house across the street.

"Someone was watching us," Francis muttered, shaking his head. "It was probably nothing..."

"That's the Braginsky house," Arthur muttered. Francis' nose wrinkled in distaste.

"Ivan Braginsky?"

"That's right - the creep himself." Arthur let out a bitter laugh. "Ignore him, he does that a lot."

"He stares at people outside windows?" Francis shook his head. "No wonder everyone calls him mentally unstable."

"He probably is." Arthur wrapped his hand around Francis'. "But let's not talk about Braginsky, alright? I'm almost home and I want to enjoy this night while it lasts - who knows when it'll happen again?"

"I'll take you out for dinner tomorrow," Francis promised.

"Yup." Arthur smirked slightly. "And you'll probably get it all wrong."

Francis dropped him off at his doorstep. He hesitated for a moment, glancing at the door of the house, his eyebrows raised.

"Are you planning on leaving?" Arthur asked. "Because I'd love it if you did."

Francis' eyebrows raised higher.

"Because of my parents," Arthur amended. "You know what they're going to do if you come in with me."

"Your mother will take hundreds of photos and your father will kill me," Francis sighed. "Right, of course."

They kissed again and then Francis walked off. "I'll see you tomorrow," he called back.

"Bye." Arthur watched for a few moments before knocking on his door. His mother opened it, beaming widely when she saw him.

"Oh Arthur!" she exclaimed. "Where's Francis, hmm? I want to get a few photos of you two before he leaves -"

"You're a bit late," Arthur told her, grinning. "He already left."

"What?" Her expression fell. "But...I told you to make sure he stayed for a bit after! Honey, I made cake and everything!"

"Arthur?" His father, who was sitting on the sofa in front of the television, glanced up at him and frowned. "You're awfully late - I thought I told you to be home by -"

"Oh, knock it off," his mother interrupted. "Let the boy have his fun! Besides, Francis is a _lovely _boy."

Arthur snorted. "I'm going to bed, alright," he told them.

"You should have been in bed over an hour ago," his father grumbled. Arthur rolled his eyes and headed up the stairs.

Once he was a fair distance away from his parents, he let out a small, victorious cheer. The night had gone...well, amazingly. Better than he had ever hoped for. The only thing that could have made it better was, well...

...Arthur shook his head and blushed. Dammit, he had been spending too much time with that Frog.

"Artie?" said a voice from above him. He peered up at the top of the staircase, smiling when he saw his younger brother staring down at him.

"Alfred!" He bounded up the remaining steps. "What are you doing up this late?"

"I was waiting for you!" Alfred responded, beaming widely. "You took _ages, _what were you _doing _all night?"

"I was with Francis," he responded, rolling his eyes. "You knew that."

"I didn't think you would _take so long!" _Alfred pouted. "You promised you'd read me a bed time story tonight, remember?"

"Did I?" Arthur frowned; oh crap, he had. He shot Alfred an apologetic look.

"I'll read you one tomorrow," he promised.

"You said that _yesterday!" _Alfred scowled. "And the day before! You're always _busy _now with Francis! And if you're not with Francis, you're with Elizaverta or...other people! It's not fair!"

"Alfie, I'm _tired," _Arthur groaned. "Can't we do this tomorrow? I _promise _I will -"

"But you're just saying that!" Alfred cried. "And then tomorrow you're going to be _busy _again!"

"Oh come on," Arthur moaned. "Let me off the hook, I'm exhausted! Tomorrow, alright? I swear - I'll even read you a horror story if you like."

Alfred paused. "But...you never read me horror stories," he said, slowly. "You say that if you do, I'll just annoy you all night because I'll be too afraid to sleep." He narrowed his eyes. "And I do _not _get afraid - I'm a hero, and hero's are never scared!"

"I'll make an exception," Arthur promised. "Tomorrow I'll read you one, alright? Whatever you want."

Alfred thought for a moment, a deep look of concentration etched across his ten-year-old face. Finally, he nodded his head.

"Okay," he agreed. "But," he added, narrowing his eyes slightly. "If you don't do it you have to be my sidekick for the rest of eternity, alright?"

Arthur hid his grin. "Alright," he agreed, trying to look serious.

Alfred immediately beamed. "Thanks Artie!" he cried, before hurrying off to his room. Arthur watched him for a few moments, shaking his head in amusement. While his brother could certainly be annoying at times, he wouldn't change him for the world.

Arthur stretched and let out a yawn. He really _was _exhausted. He'd been out longer than he had expected. With a small smile on his face, he headed for his room. He really needed to get some sleep.

...

Arthur knew something was wrong the moment he opened his eyes.

The house was much to silent. Something Arthur had come to realize in his seventeen years was that whenever his family were around things were _never _quiet. There was always something going on and the silence made him feel slightly apprehensive.

The next thing he noticed was that he was lying on the floor. In bewilderment, Arthur looked around, wandering if he had somehow fallen off his bed in his sleep. This feeling grew once he realized that his entire room was empty.

"What?" he muttered in disbelief. His eyes roamed the room, looking for _something. _Where was his bed? Where was his cabinet? Where was that framed family picture that his mum kept sticking in his room no matter how many times he got rid of it?

"Is this some kind of joke?" he called out, a hint of anger slipping into his voice. "Alfred - I swear, if you did something -"

It _had _to be Alfred. Despite how Arthur couldn't wrap his head around how his ten year old brother could do something like this, at the same time..._who else _would do something like this?

Dammit, he should have just read the boy his bedtime story last night...

"Alfred, this isn't funny!" he howled, storming out of the room. "I don't know what you're doing, but I want my stuff back!"

The corridor outside his room looked...strange. Arthur couldn't figure out why; a part of him wanted to say that it looked 'empty' but then, the corridor had always been that way. Oddly enough it was the one place that wasn't brimming with family photos and odd ornament...his mother had always been obsessed with those...

"Alfred," he growled, throwing open his brother's door. "Alfred this isn't -"

The room was empty.

"...What?"

With wide eyes, Arthur stared at the bare space in front of him. Arthur thought about the way his brother's room usually looked; clattered, messy - an accident waiting to happen. The room now looked uninhabited, as if no one had set foot in it for years.

"If this is a joke, it isn't funny!" he cried, turning around and throwing himself back into the corridor. He flung open the next door - his brother, Matthews room - and looked inside. Empty. It was all empty.

Arthur swallowed heavily, backing away. His eyes wandered over to the closed door of his parents room but he couldn't bring himself to open it. He knew what he would find on the other side.

"What the hell is going on," he half-moaned. Why was the place empty? What had _happened? _

"Mum?" he called out, heading downstairs. "Dad? Alfred? Mattie? Is anyone here?"

He almost wasn't surprised when he reached the bottom floor of his house and found it as empty as the top. Cobwebs hung from the walls; the cheerful house he had fallen asleep in the night before had vanished.

"Where is everyone?" he whispered.

Silence.

Swallowing heavily, Arthur narrowed his eyes. "If this _is _some stupid joke," he choked out. _"Everyone _is going to pay - even mum and dad! And I don't care if they're the 'parents' and they 'call the shots' - I'm seriously not going to let this go -"

He stopped abruptly and closed his eyes. A joke? Which idiot would actually move _every _piece of furniture out of the house for a joke? His mother would have had a fit if they'd even _suggested _touching her precious things. Not to mention, the house looked like it hadn't been lived in for years...

Arthur, keeping his eyes lowered to the floor, headed for the front door. He needed to get out. He needed to see...people. And maybe he'd find his parents, or his brothers, and find out what was really going on.

"This is bullshit," he muttered. "_Bullshit_ - I swear, there better be a good explanation for this -"

Last night had been so wonderful...dammit. He should have known his good mood wouldn't last.

Stepping out of the house, Arthur was immediately hit by the blinding sun. As opposed to the cold, unfriendliness of his home, the world outside looked almost unnaturally cheerful and perfect. Arthur frowned, looking around for any sight of his family.

The yard was empty. Arthur's jaw clenched slightly and he stepped onto the street, scanning it for any sign of life. A few cars drove past, and Arthur couldn't help but feel a hint of relief at that; at least _something _was normal.

"Alright," he muttered. "Think, now, think. Your family must be _somewhere, _they couldn't have just disappeared of the face of the planet!" He let out a nervous laugh; that was impossible...right?

He hurriedly headed down the street. His mind was blank as he tried to think of where he could possibly find his family. His brothers might be at school...right? Was it even a school day? Arthur groaned and shook his head; he was really starting to go crazy over this.

When he saw the first sign that everything in his life hadn't gone completely mad, he almost wept in relief. At the end of the street his best friend Elizaverta stood with Francis, both conversing about something. Arthur had never been so happy to see them in his life. He picked up his pace, hurrying down towards them.

"Lizzie! Francis!" he called out. "Something really weird is going on - you _have _to come inside my house, everything's gone and - _what the fucking hell?!"_

Arthur stopped abruptly, his eyes widening in horror and disbelief as something shocking happened.

Elizaverta and Francis started to eat each other's faces off.

...Well okay, they were kissing, but that was just as bad.

"...Huh?" Arthur stared in front of him, uncomprehendingly, as the kiss grew deeper. His eyes followed Elizaverta's arms as they wrapped around Francis' neck, clinging to him as if he'd escape and run away if she let go.

"Why the fucking _hell _aren't you trying to run away you frog?!" Arthur howled. "Run away! Do something - no _not that! Don't kiss her back!"_

Oh dammit, Francis was wrapping his hands around Elizaverta's waist and dragging her closer. Didn't those two need to _breathe. _Arthur watched in horror, moisture stinging his eyes (he _wasn't _going to cry, dammit!) as two of the people he cared about most carried out the ultimate act of betrayal.

"...I'm going to commit murder today," Arthur growled. "I don't _care _if it's a fucking sin, I'm going to _kill them!"_

They pulled away at last, panting hard. They both gave each other small, tentative smiles, and Arthur felt his stomach curl in disgust.

"You want to go catch that movie?" Elizaverta laughed, her cheeks flushed pink. Arthur glared murderously in her direction.

"Say no, you Frog," Arthur hissed. "I'm _never _going to forgive you but if you say no...I might spare your life. _Maybe."_

"Oh yes," Francis agreed, grinning sheepishly. "I got a bit distracted."

Arthur felt his eye twitch.

The two entwined hands and turned around; Despite the rage he felt bubbling within him, Arthur felt a thrill at this.

_'They'll see me now,' _he thought. _'They'll see me and they'll realize that I just saw everything...'_

If Francis and Elizaverta _did _see him (which they had too; he was standing right in front of them, for godsake!) they certainly didn't acknowledge him. With matching smiles on their faces, they walked straight past Arthur, chatting happily about something that Arthur honestly didn't give a _shit _about.

"They ignored me," he spluttered in disbelief. "They _fucking ignored me!"_

For a few moments he stood still, still too stunned to move. What the hell was _wrong _with the _world?! _First his home went mad and now...now what? His boyfriend had cheated on him? His best friend was really a two-faced bitch?

Life really hated him, didn't it?

Arthur stormed off, all thoughts of finding his family gone from his mind. He _knew _that he needed to find them, and that something was incredibly _wrong _but Arthur couldn't bring himself to think about it at the moment. He wanted to sit down and...do nothing. He wanted to relax and pretend that everything was normal.

...Maybe this was all some whacked-up, horrible dream...

There was a park close to his house; he often went there when he was upset or angry. He had a specific spot there for these days, where he would sit and relax, stare out at the lake in front of him, and let his mind go...blank. He really needed that right now.

"Why can't I just be happy?" he growled, as he rounded the corner. "Why can't I just be _happy _for once in my life without everything screwing up..."

The park was just down the street, and Arthur allowed his mind to wander as he walked. He should have _known _not to trust Francis. Arthur shouldn't have allowed himself to fall for his tricks; he should have known better...

"Why did he have to make it so _good?_" he grumbled, glowering darkly at the reminder of what he had witnessed. "Couldn't he have...spat in her mouth or something?"

Arthur suddenly stopped, closing his eyes and clenching his jaw. Brilliant; to top off his oh-so-wonderful day, someone was sitting on his seat. _His seat! _He stood still for a few moments before storming over, stopping abruptly in front of the person and shooting them the most venomous glare he could muster.

"You're sitting in my seat," he growled. Sure, the guy couldn't have known that it was his feel-better spot, and sure he couldn't blame the guy for wanting a sight of the brilliant view but...well, _he _wanted that brilliant view! Wasn't he entitled to that after his hell of a morning?

"I got here -"

Whatever the other person - a boy around his age - had been about to say cut off abruptly. A small choking sound exited the boy's mouth; his eyes seemed to grow wider by the second.

Arthur frowned. "Are you alrigh - _what the HELL?!"_

For a moment neither of them spoke, simply staring at each other in shock. Arthur's eyes roamed the boy's face, taking in his familiar features, his familiar eyes, and that familiar cowlick that their mother had always hated.

He looked older but...without a doubt it _had _to be him.

"Alfred," Arthur choked. "What the _hell happened to you?!"_

**...**

**AN:**

**Okay so I got the idea for this fic a few days ago and I got a bit excited so...I thought I'd try it out. I hope you enjoyed this first chapter, and tell me what you think! :D**


	2. When Nothing Makes Sense

Alfred was staring at him with wide eyes, and Arthur stared back looking...well, pretty much the same.

"Alfred?" he choked. "What...huh? I don't...you look...you look old. You look _old_ - how are you old? You're _ten."_

Alfred didn't respond.

"You're ten years old," Arthur repeated. "You...you're taller than I am..." His throat felt dry; is heart was hammering in his chest. "Alfred...what's going on?"

Alfred flinched back, his face growing pale. "Wha - Artie?" he choked.

_'Oh god,' _Arthur thought, feeling faint. _'He's as old as I am...he's my baby brother and he looks as old as I do...how the _fuck _is any of this possible?!'_

"Artie..." Alfred trembled. "How - what -?" For a moment Alfred actually looked like he would pass out.

"Are you alright?" His confusion was suddenly overrode with concern; he reached out to steady his brother but Alfred immediately backed away.

"How the hell are you here?!" he demanded.

"I walked here!" Arthur snapped. "Look, I don't know what's going on, okay? I woke up and the house looked like it hadn't been lived in for years, and Francis was kissing Elizaverta, and everyone was gone and - did I mention that Francis was kissing Elizaverta? Bloody Frog, I should have known he'd go and cheat on me -"

"Huh?" Alfred's eyes grew wider. "I don't - Francis didn't _cheat _on you Artie, he was devastated after you died! Sure, he's moved on now but -"

"What do you mean he didn't cheat on me?!" Trying to put all the ridiculous, impossible, unexplainable mess behind him, Arthur focused on something that held _some _sort of normalcy (and if his boyfriend cheating on him with his best friend was the most normalthing he could think off, that just went to show how mad everything else was). "I saw him kissing her!"

"Well yeah but -"

"Wait." Arthur cut him off. "What...what do you mean _after I died?!"_

"...Um." Alfred swallowed. "This...this is really weird Artie." He seemed to pale again. "I mean...your dead. And now you're standing here and -"

_"I'm not dead!" _Arthur stared at him in disbelief. "Alfred, I'm standing right in front of you! How could I possibly be _dead?"_

"...Well, I'm probably going crazy or something." Alfred nodded his head. "I mean, it was bound to happen, right? That's what Mattie said - he said I'd go crazy if I didn't let go..."

"You aren't crazy! If anything _I'm _the crazy one!" Arthur let out a shaky laugh. "I mean, you look...you look as old as I do! And that...that isn't possible. You're only ten -"

"Artie, I haven't been ten since...well, since you died." Alfred chewed on his lip for a moment. "I mean...I'm sixteen now. You've been dead for six years."

"No," Arthur muttered, shaking his head. "I'm not dead! I'd remember that -"

"I don't know, they said you died in your sleep," Alfred replied, shrugging his shoulders. "But yeah, you're definitely dead and...and I'm talking to a figment of my imagination." He shook his head, letting out an awkward laugh. "Oh god, I should have left while I still could..."

"You aren't crazy," Arthur argued. "And I'm not dead. This is...this is just weird, that's all. But I'm sure there's a good explanation for this."

"There _is _a good explanation," Alfred agreed. "You're dead and I'm bat-shit crazy."

"Watch your language," Arthur reprimanded. "You're too young to be talking that way."

"Artie, I'm _sixteen," _Alfred shot back. "While you've been dead, I've been growing up!"

"I'm not dead," Arthur muttered.

"Wow." Alfred scowled slightly. "I just had to make you extra stubborn, didn't I?"

"I'm not -" Arthur stopped abruptly and shook his head. He didn't want to talk about this; he _wasn't _dead. He couldn't be; if he was, he'd know. How could you _not _know if you were...well, if you were dead?

"So..." Arthur let out an awkward cough. "This is really strange, huh? I mean...wow, you're sixteen? That means you're only a year younger than I am...that isn't right..."

"I'm not talking to a figment of my imagination on a park bench," Alfred muttered. "People will think I'm as mad as that Commie Bastard."

"Ahh, Ivan Braginsky." Arthur shook his head, crinkling his nose slightly. "Has he skipped forward a few years too?"

"There was no 'skipping forward.'" Alfred stood up, dusting himself off. He started to walk forward, not even sparing a glance behind him. Arthur stood up and hurried behind him.

"Are you sure you're alright to walk?" he asked, sounding concerned. "You looked a bit faint before and -"

"Heroes don't faint," Alfred said, immediately. It reminded Arthur of the way his brother had been when he'd last seen him; loud, cheerful, _ten-year-old _Alfred, who always claimed to be the 'hero.' It seemed some things hadn't changed.

"So..." Arthur coughed. "You certainly don't seem to be taking this too well. I mean...the fact that things are...odd."

"I'm going crazy and imagining that my dead brother is speaking to me," Alfred muttered. "Things are a little more than 'odd.'"

"I'm not dead," Arthur responded. "And I wasn't taking about that, I was talking about the fact that things are...less than normal. For both of us. You don't see me acting that way."

"Thank my mind for that," Alfred responded, stiffly.

"Look," Arthur gritted out. "Do you honestly think this is easy for me? I wake up and everyone has disappeared - I go outside and what do I see? My boyfriend _kissing _my best friend. And now my little brother - who isn't so little anymore - keeps saying that I'm _dead." _In a stubborn voice he added, "which, by the way, I am _not."_

"And I'm going crazy," Alfred replied. "Which _really _sucks. I'm much too heroic to be crazy."

Arthur didn't respond.

"Artie," Alfred sighed. "Six years have passed - everyone is older, everything has changed, yet you _somehow _haven't changed a bit." He paused, letting this sink in. "What do you _think _has happened?"

"I..." Arthur shrugged. "I guess I could have...fallen asleep and...landed in the future..."

There was a brief pause.

"And that's more likely than you being dead?" Alfred's voice was slightly disbelieving.

"I'm not dead!" Arthur shot back, quickly. "Besides," he added, bitterly, "I thought you were determined that you were crazy? What should it _matter _what I think?"

"It doesn't," Alfred muttered, avoiding his gaze.

The two walked in silence for a few moments, Arthur staring at his brother, and Alfred continuing to keep his gaze locked on the floor.

"Where are we?" Arthur asked suddenly, frowning as they reached an apartment complex. "Whose home is this?"

"Mine," Alfred responded, stiffly. He walked forward without even bothering to check if Arthur was following or not.

"What do you mean?" Arthur demanded. "What happened to the house?"

"Mum and I moved here after Dad and Mattie moved out." Alfred headed inside; Arthur followed.

"I don't understand," Arthur muttered. Alfred didn't respond, simply walking forward, over to a series of elevators. As he fiddled around with the buttons, Arthur stared blankly ahead of him. "Why would Dad leave?"

Alfred didn't respond. The elevator doors opened and both brothers stepped inside.

"Alfred?" Arthur prompted.

Alfred stared blankly ahead of him, refusing to look at his brother. Arthur's jaw clenched.

"Would you stop being so bloody stubborn and answer me?!" he growled. He received no reply.

The elevator doors opened and Alfred headed outside. Arthur, with muttered curses, followed close behind.

"Stop ignoring me!" he hissed. "You're acting like a child!"

"Artie, shut up," Alfred snapped. "I'm not talking to myself in a fucking corridor! People are going to think I'm some psycho!"

"Language!" Arthur muttered.

Alfred yanked open one of the many doors lined up in the long corridor and headed inside; he paused and glanced up, shooting Arthur an annoyed glance.

"Are you coming or not?" he demanded.

"I don't understand why you moved," Arthur muttered. "Our old house was just fine."

"Mum couldn't afford it," Alfred muttered. "You know, she never earned much from her job anyway, it was mostly Dad - I mean, she's finding it hard with this place -"

"I can't believe _Mum _lives here," Arthur muttered, glancing around in disbelief. "It's so...blank. Empty. Mum hates places like this."

"Yeah well..." Alfred shrugged. "I don't think she cares too much anymore. You know, since you died and all."

"I didn't -" Arthur sighed. "Whatever. Where is Mum anyway?"

"Out." Alfred shrugged. "She's working. She does that a lot now."

"Oh..." Arthur frowned. "That's...well, is she alright?"

Alfred shrugged again. "As alright as she can be." He frowned slightly. "Hmm...I'm probably being a really bad host right now. I mean, I haven't even offered you anything to eat and - well, I mean, you couldn't eat it anyway. You aren't real."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "I'm not a bloody guest," he grumbled. "I'm your brother and - I _am _real."

"Right, yeah," Alfred muttered. He headed over to the couch and dumped himself onto it. He stared blankly ahead of him.

"So..." Arthur sat himself down next to his brother and shot him a glance. "Why aren't you living with Dad and Mattie?"

"Wanted to stay here." Alfred frowned. "You know...I couldn't leave Mum. And all my friends are here and...yeah."

"But Mattie felt that it was alright to leave Mum?" Arthur's tone was slightly bitter.

"Don't blame him," Alfred sighed. "He found it really hard after you died...we all did. I mean...you know. It was hard. On all of us."

"I'd apologize," Arthur said, "except then I'd have to admit that I'm dead. And I'm not."

"You don't have to apologize," Alfred responded. "Because, as a figment of my imagination, you really haven't done anything wrong."

Arthur sighed.

**...**

**Review please? :)**


	3. Real or Not?

"You know," Arthur said, shooting Alfred a brief glance, "if you keep staring off into space, people are going to think that you _are _crazy."

Alfred frowned at him. "What people?"

"I'm just saying." Arthur shrugged his shoulders. "It's not a good habit to pick up on."

"I'm just thinking about how I've _completely lost my mind." _Alfred scowled slightly. "I just don't get why it _took _so long. You'd think I'd start seeing my dead brother right after he'd, well...died."

"I'm not -"

" - Dead, I know." Alfred rolled his eyes. "We can continue this conversation all day long but it all comes back to one thing - _you _need to get back into my mind and _I _need to forget this ever happened."

"I can't go back into your mind Alfred," Arthur sighed. "I'll tell you why? Because I never came out of there in the first place!"

"Prove it," Alfred challenged, narrowing his eyes slightly.

"Fine." Scowling, Arthur thought for a moment. "Alright," he said at last, "if I came out of _your _mind, then why aren't I...dressed as a superhero? I don't believe that _you _could create an imaginary friend without some link to those stupid comic books you're obsessed with."

_"Was _obsessed with," Alfred corrected. "I outgrew those _ages _ago. And as for why you aren't dressed as a superhero - well that's obvious. _I'm _the only superhero in this room!"

Arthur snorted and resisted the urge to smile.

"Also, you're not an imaginary friend! You're the ghost of my dead brother." Alfred paused. "...That my mind created."

Arthur sighed.

"Okay fine," he grumbled. "You're determined that I'm not real? Fine whatever. I'm going to look around the house."

"I don't think you can," Alfred responded. "I mean...would that even work? You leaving the room when I'm not there...I mean, if I wasn't there you wouldn't be there...right?"

Arthur rolled his eyes and stepped into the first small room in a tiny, narrow corridor in the apartment. The room looked practically empty, save for a small bed, a cabinet and a wardrobe.

"That's mum's room," Alfred told him, poking his head through the doorway.

"This is so...weird," Arthur muttered. "How does she stand it? You know how obsessed mum is with ornaments, and pictures, and decor..."

_"Was," _Alfred corrected. "That obsession kind of...disappeared."

"God," Arthur muttered, shaking his head. "I just can't imagine her living in this house...it's so _dark _and _miserable. _Can't we just...tidy it up a bit?"

Alfred snorted. "You can do that," he responded. "I have some homework to finish."

Arthur's jaw dropped open slightly. "I'm sorry," he spluttered. "Did you say you have some _homework _to finish?"

Alfred shot him an odd look. "Yes."

"But..." Arthur gaped at him for a moment. "You _never _do your homework!" he exclaimed, at last. "You always used to try and convince Mattie or me to do it for you!"

"Yes..." Alfred's eyebrows raised slightly. "And in case you hadn't noticed, Mattie's gone and you're dead."

Alfred left the room, leaving Arthur staring after him. The - _not dead - _boy followed shortly after, his eyes taking in the drab exterior of the house once more.

"Maybe I could by some flowers..." Arthur cocked his head to the side, a contemplative look crossing his face. "Mum always did like tulips...do you think she'd like some, Alfred?"

"From you?" Alfred snorted. "Sure, I'm sure she'd _love _some flowers from her dead son."

Arthur's jaw clenched slightly. "Why are you acting like such a brat?" he demanded. "Okay fine, you think I'm not real - don't blame me for that!"

Alfred didn't answer for a long moment. "I don't," he finally muttered. "I just...well, you _can't _be real, right? Ghosts don't exist."

Arthur opened his mouth to reply, planning on something along the lines of, _"well, I'm NOT a ghost, so..." _but instead he simply shrugged and gave his brother an awkward smile.

"I honestly don't know," he sighed.

Alfred frowned slightly. He sat himself down on the floor, spreading three books out in front of him. For a minute he simply stared at them, his eyes roaming across them as if they were foreign objects.

"Wouldn't you prefer to sit on a table and do that?" Arthur asked, frowning slightly.

"I prefer the floor," Alfred responded, softly. He made no move to start his work; Arthur watched him and frowned in concern.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Um..." Alfred hesitated. "Well...look, I know you aren't real but..." Alfred chewed on his lip for a moment, looking uncomfortable.

"Yes?" Arthur prompted.

"...Um, maybe we could...maybe we could talk a bit." Alfred swallowed, before quickly adding, "you know, before you go back into my mind, where you came from."

Arthur opened his mouth, intent on telling his younger brother off, but stopped when he saw the hopeful glint in Alfred's eyes. He let out a loud sigh; he _really _needed to learn how to say no to the boy.

"Okay fine," he sighed. "Let's say, for the sake of this conversation, that I really am dead, okay?"

Alfred nodded.

"Well then...has it gotten any easier for you?"

Alfred pushed his books away and sprawled out across the now empty space. He glanced at Arthur and shook his head.

"Not really," he sighed. "I mean...I thought it would, at the beginning, and I still think it will sometimes - except I guess it won't, seeing as I'm now seeing a figment -"

"Alfred," Arthur snapped, cutting him off mid-sentence. "If _I _can't say that I'm not dead, then _you _can't say that I'm not real!"

Alfred rolled his eyes. "Oh fine," he sighed. "Fine, fine, you really are a ghost. Okay then - how's heaven, hmm?"

"How should _I _know?!" Arthur snapped. "Stop acting like a smart-arse! Ask me a proper question!"

"Oh, I don't know," Alfred retorted. "I mean, what am I supposed to ask you if you don't even know that you're dead? It kind of ruins things a bit, doesn't it?"

Arthur made an annoyed noise and glared at Alfred; Alfred scowled back at him, his chin jutting out stubbornly.

"Fine," Arthur finally ground out. _"I'll _ask the questions then. Tell me - when _exactly _did Lizzie and Francis get together?"

Alfred stared at him for a moment. "You're joking," he said at last, his voice dead-pan.

"Oh come on, tell me," Arthur pressed. "I bet that damn frog went running into that _bitch's _waiting arms the moment I was gone, didn't she? I bet she was all over him -"

"Okay, Artie, you sound crazier than _I _am." Alfred paused as Arthur shot him a venomous glare. "Yeah okay, I can't say that you aren't real - sorry, I forgot. But _seriously, _calm down! And why are you calling Lizzie a bitch? She's your best friend!"

"Language," Arthur reprimanded.

"But _you _said -"

"I'm not ten," Arthur responded, stiffly.

_"Neither am I!"_

"Anyway." Sitting up straighter, Arthur's scowl deepened. "Lizzie _was _my best friend until I saw her _eating Francis' face off."_

"Ugh!" Alfred visibly recoiled. "What the _hell _Artie?! I don't want to know that!"

"Well, then answer my question! When did they get together?!"

"Wow," Alfred muttered, shaking his head slightly. "Never took you for the jealous type - anyway, they got together _ages _after you died. This year actually - and before that Francis _never _dated. I'm not even joking - that's five years of no dating."

"...I don't believe you."

Alfred nodded his head. "Yeah I know - it's a very big feat for him, isn't it?"

"You're telling me that Francis - _Francis Bonnefoy, _the biggest man-whore in this universe stayed single for _five years straight?!"_

Alfred shrugged. "I guess he really cared about you."

Arthur blinked, not really sure _what _to say to that. It was...nice, he supposed. It probably would have been a whole lot nicer if that little statement hadn't been shoved into a conversation about his apparent demise.

"Nice chat," Alfred said, suddenly. "So...are you going back into my mind yet?"

Arthur sighed. "You aren't crazy Alfie."

"Don't call me Alfie," Alfred shot back. "I'm not a kid anymore."

"You still call me Artie," Arthur pointed out.

"Artie isn't a kid's name."

"Neither is Alfie."

Alfred snorted. "Oh trust me, it is."

The door suddenly opened behind them, causing both of them to jump. Alfred's hand jerked forward, sending papers flying everywhere.

"Dammit," he cursed, quickly moving to rearrange everything.

"Alfred?" his mother's voice called out. "Is that you?"

"Yeah, mum," he responded. "I'm in the living room."

Arthur sat forward in anticipation. His mother was home - _surely _his own mother would be able to see him. There was no way that she'd walk straight past him like everyone else had - there was just no _way..._

But as soon as she stepped into the living room, looking pale and ragged, and nothing like the cheerful women that he remembered, she glanced straight past him, as if he wasn't even there.

"Hey," she said to Alfred, smiling tiredly. "Have you had anything to eat yet?"

"I'll get something later," Alfred told her. He shot a brief glance at Arthur, before dragging his eyes away.

"Don't stay up too long," she told him. "You have school tomorrow, don't forget."

"I won't."

All the while as this exchange was taking place, Arthur looked on, desperate to be noticed. This was his _mother - _how could she _not _know he was there...?!

"I'm going to go and take a shower," their mother told Alfred, removing her coat and slinging it over the sofa.

"Sure thing," Alfred responded.

As soon as their mother had left the room, he turned his head, glancing over at Arthur who was gaping at the now empty doorway.

"...She didn't know I was here..." Arthur whispered, his voice disbelieving.

"Okay that proves you're dead," Alfred told him, although there was a hint of sympathy in his voice. "Doesn't prove that I'm not insane though."

"Maybe she just can't see me," Arthur muttered, shaking his head in denial.

Alfred sighed. "Or maybe I should just go and see a psychiatrist..."


End file.
